Date: Sun, 29 Jan 2006 21:15:17 -0500
From: Rogue Writer <roguewriter@hotmail.com>
Subject: Screwing My Ex

Screwing My Ex
By Rogue Writer

(F/F, oral, anal, exhibitionism, violence, irrational
behavior, bad cooking)

DISCLAIMER: In case the codes above are Greek to you, this
is a sex story with lots of good ol' down home sex scenes.
If this doesn't interest you, stop reading.  If this does
interest you, get some popcorn and a drink, put it aside for
later, grab your partner or whatever you use when you don't
have a partner, and get ready to have some fun.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Even though I use a mental condition as a
story device in this tale, I do not think people should be
judged by such things and readers should not assume that
those who struggle with mental imbalances or social
disorders would act in this manner.



It was half past ten in the morning on an early November
day, and I had a surprise appointment to keep.  I strode
down Thirty Second Street in New York City with a purposeful
stride in my gait.  My clothes were chosen carefully - the
dark jacket with a fur collar that Amber had always thought
was so sexy and the knee length black boots with two-inch
heels.  She picked out both items when we went shopping
once, telling me that she would always be turned on when I
wore them.  It was something I counted on for today.

As I walked some people occasionally looked or even leered
at me.  I was used to stares, mostly because people felt a
six-foot tall Asian woman was some kind of oddity, but today
part of it was the outfit.  I felt a little rush, thinking
if they only knew what was underneath this coat.
Unfortunately, and all too soon, that rush was taken over by
nerves.  There was a part of me that knew this whole thing
was insane, that I was not thinking clearly, and that if I
turned around right now, headed home and took my pills, the
pain and anger I was feeling might subside sooner than I
thought.

But as I mentioned this was only a very small part of me
thinking rationally.  The rest was pure temper, a white-hot
fire of rage that was saying something along the lines of,

"FUCKING ROTTEN CUNT BITCH WHORE I'M GOING TO KILL THAT
STUPID WENCH AND STUFF HER INTO A TOOTHPASTE TUBE AND
SQUEEZE HER OUT SLOWLYONTO A BED OF HOT COALS AND WATCH HER
WRITHE IN AGONY WHILE I LAUGH!"

Okay, so I tend to get slightly eloquent when I'm angry,
probably because I've had plenty of practice.  My temper is
legendary among my family and friends, and some have joked
that my name, Blossom, has more to do with anger rather than
botany.  I've been seeing psychologists ever since high
school, all of them trying to help me control my rage and
occasional fits of depression with varying degrees of
success.  Most have used medication, and at first that
seemed like a great cure.  But whenever I forget to take my
pills the feelings come back ten times stronger than before,
mixing with negative memories that fuel my rage even
further, and sometimes it all leads me to do things I
regret.  I haven't taken my pills for several days now, and
even in my current state I could tell this was shaping up to
be one of those times.


"I heard you stabbed a girl once."


Amber was looking at me sitting on a toilet.  We were in a
lesbian club called The Litter Box, and I had just run away
from a table full of friends, taking refuge in the bathroom
and forgetting to close the stall door because I was so
upset.  Seeing her face made me realize how the dim club
lighting hid her beauty.  Amber stood there waiting for a
response, and even though she had an easygoing air about
her, I felt the weight of her stare.

"It was a long time ago," I said.  "Back in high school."

The left corner of Amber's mouth came up in a half smile.
"I was in high school once.  Don't recall stabbing anyone."

Most stall doors are cheap shit and only stay in two
positions - locked or open.
I threw the stall door so hard that it actually stuck shut.
My eyes struggled to hold back the tears that came with the
memories that had been dredged up.  I could hear Amber's
footsteps as they came up to the door.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Talking always helped me, at least with my psychiatrist.  I
opened the door.  Amber stood there with a concerned look on
her face.

"You know," I started, "my mom always said, "What goes
around comes around."   It was like her credo.  Whenever
someone did something fucked up, I could just count three
seconds and mouth it right along with her `cause she was
that predictable with it."  I shook my head.  "I'm still
waiting to see it really happen."

The story started when I was in high school and a new girl
had come to town.  She was a beautiful redhead named Heather
Pollard, and the moment I saw her I fell in love.  Every
time I passed her in the hall I felt a rush of excitement,
and when I had a class with her I spent all my time stealing
glances and daydreaming of being in a relationship with her.
It was the kind of thing you did at fifteen when you knew in
the back of your mind it would never happen, but you kept
hoping and dreaming.

Then it really happened.  Heather slipped me a note one day
as we were leaving class.  It said she had heard rumors
about my sexuality and hoped they were true because she was
very interested.  No words could adequately describe the
soar of excitement, the rushing of the blood, the
lightheadedness, the feeling that I could jump over a
building or run ten miles without losing steam.  Bullets
would have bounced off of me that afternoon.  Following
instructions in the note, I met Heather later that day
behind a local building and we made out for a while.  After
that she told me her parents were going out of town for the
weekend and I could stay over her place Friday night.
Nothing felt real on my walk home that day.  What was only a
dream had quickly become reality.

When we talked on the phone Heather told me she'd had a
girlfriend back home but they broke up after she left.  I
told her that I'd never been with anyone except myself, but
apparently I'm very good because my body was always
satisfied.  She laughed, which sounded like musical notes to
my ears, and said she couldn't wait to show me how much
better it is with someone else.  When I got to her place
that Friday we went to her room and made out for a little
while, then she asked me to strip.  Heather wanted to watch
me masturbate and see how good I was, so she planted herself
in a chair in front of the bed.  I stood and took off my
clothes without ceremony and spread myself on the bed.  This
all felt crazy, so I sat there for a moment and soaked in
the excitement, sitting naked on another girl's bed while
she admired my body, about to perform a sexual act with an
audience.

With a feather light touch I started running my fingers
around my breasts, letting goose bumps raise up at the
sensation.  I took each nipple between my thumbs and
forefingers and gave a squeeze, followed by some caressing
and then another pinch.  Heather smiled and that sent a wave
of electricity through me.  My breath started to catch
occasionally, and I felt a familiar tingle start to grow
south of my belly button.  I moved my hands away from my
breasts and sent them roaming all over my body - up and down
along my sides, down my crotch and over my mound, up and
down my upper legs, and over my tummy until I was back up to
my breasts.  While I did this I sighed and moaned at the
sensation, occasionally adding in the same sound I make
whenever anything caramel touches my lips.

Heather was enthralled at what I was doing.  This meant the
time I'd spent sitting in the library reading sex education
books and surfing the Internet for lewd stories instead of
doing schoolwork had been a proper redirection of my
efforts.  I'd have to pat myself on the back when my hands
weren't so busy.  Right now they were teasing my pubic hairs
as I spread my legs open, for the first time displaying my
most private areas to another human being who didn't have
the letters `MD' after their name.

I slid my fingers along my folds, which were already moist
from the full body massage, and used my fingertips to tease
the sensitive flesh.  Maybe it was the excitement of the
moment, or maybe it was the comfort I felt at meeting
another lesbian, but I automatically said the words I
usually say as soon as my hands touch my pussy.  "Hello,
lover."

Heather giggled and I was suddenly aware of what I had
uttered.  But the smile on her face was warm and that put me
at ease.  Bringing one hand back up to my face as the other
continued to play with my pussy, I made a show of licking
the honey off of my fingertips, basically over dramatizing
in the way a fifteen year-old who was doing something to
impress another person would.  But seeing Heather's jaw drop
made me feel like I was doing it just right.

A moan came from deep within me as I slid a finger inside of
myself.  I could tell Heather was getting excited because
she bit her lip as her legs bounced up and down and her face
had a look of bottled excitement, like a ten-year-old kid on
Christmas Eve.   I started moving my finger in and out
slowly, making a big show of it by planting my feet on the
bed, leaning on my shoulders and bringing my hips up so she
could see the action clearly.

"That's so cool," she said.

The words made me soar.  Ever since Heather talked about the
sexual experiences she'd had with her girlfriend, I started
worrying that my inexperience might hurt my chances to be
with her.  That's why impressing Heather became so
important, and once it was accomplished I wanted to reap the
reward for my efforts.  Lowering my hips down to the bed, I
looked at her and asked, "You want to join me?"

With a wide smile she said, "I want to see you finish
yourself off.  After that, I'll show you what I can do."

That spurned me on to finish quickly.  I lay back, brought
my fingers up to my clit and began to tease it, getting to
several highs before I finally felt the big one coming.
Something about Heather watching me made it so much more
exciting, her eyes looking at my body like she was surveying
a scrumptious desert.  Our pupils met every now and then,
and a wicked smile crossed her face.  My climax racked my
body like an earthquake, and for a moment I thought I heard
something actually hit the floor.

And suddenly I realized something did hit the floor.  A
sound coming from the closet, followed by voices.  My eyes
went to the slightly open door and then to Heather.  Her
smile turned into a laugh, and I could feel in my gut that
something was very wrong here.  Before I could say anything
the closet door flew open and two guys from school, Jimmy
Bower and Pete Trallos, came barreling out.  Pete was
holding a video camera and walked straight up to the bed
with it.  I remember screaming, somehow grabbing most of my
clothes, and running away.

The rest of the weekend was spent in my room crying.  My
parents kept asking me what was wrong, but the situation
wasn't exactly something I could talk to them about.
Heather had totally humiliated me.  I kept wondering why she
did it, and what kind of person could do such a thing.
Bouts of depression took turns with fits of rage, and I
broke more than a few things in my room.  My dad ended up
calling my psychiatrist at home.  After two hours she
managed to calm me down, but nothing could take away the
sting of what had happened.  I thought it was the worst
thing I'd ever experienced.  How wrong I was.

Monday and Tuesday I faked sickness to avoid school, not
wanting to face Heather and those two boys.  But when I
finally went in on Wednesday I saw Heather in the hallway,
hanging out with Pete and his group.  She spotted me down
the hall, waved and called out, "Hello, lover!"

I could hear the group break out in laughter as I ran away.
I made it to homeroom and thought I was safe.

"Hello, lover."

The words sent a shock wave down my spine, especially when I
realized it wasn't Heather, Pete or Jimmy. There were
giggles around the room.  Looking around to see who said it,
I suddenly realized most everyone was staring at me.  I took
out a book and buried my face in it, trying not to cry or
scream or run, wishing it would all just go away.

Later, a friend told me the video of my masturbation session
had been posted on the Internet, and Pete and Heather, who
were now an item, told everyone where to find it.  Blind
rage took over, and I don't really remember getting the
knife.  According to the police report I stole it from the
cafeteria kitchen.

I do remember stabbing Heather, that moment is vividly clear
in my mind.  As I walked up to her in the hallway, she
smiled and said, "Hello, lover," again.  I replied, "Goodbye
bitch!" and plunged the blade into her shoulder.

"I was sentenced to juvie for a few months," I told Amber.
By this time we had made our way to a coffee shop.  "They
took pity on me because I told them I had planned to stab
her in the shoulder."

"Told them," Amber said, and then she was silent for a few
moments, her eyes staring straight into mine.  In a soft,
shallow voice she said, "You weren't aiming for her
shoulder, were you?"

I looked away.  This was one of those moments I wished you
could erase those parts of your past you didn't like,
somehow starting over fresh, without all the mistakes you
made before.  "No," I said, as my voice broke slightly.  "I
was aiming for her heart.  Blind luck, she moved at the last
moment."


Suddenly I realized I had arrived at my destination.  Va Vem
was an exclusive clothing store on Thirty-Second that sold
trendy styles to rich yuppies.  I took a deep breath.  Did I
really need to do this?  Four months since it had happened
and the pain had just begun to fade.  Why reopen the wound?
This was a plan I had come up with the night before while
drunk, and finally stopping to think about it, I realized
that what I was about to do was incredibly stupid.  But then
I noticed what the mannequin was wearing - an outfit for a
grown woman that included a plaid skirt and vest, made to
look like a schoolgirl's outfit.  Who's to say what's
stupid?

I reached into my jacket pocket and touched the cold steel
object in there.  Feeling it gave me a sense of power.  It
made risking jail time seem worth it.

"Fuck it," I said to the mannequin like it could hear me,
and walked in the door.

The whole place was done in bright white walls and hardwood
floors, and as Amber had told me so many times it was devoid
of customers at this early hour.  Down a walkway flanked by
tables and cubbyhole stands filled with clothes was a
checkout counter, and behind that counter stood Amber,
folding up some sweaters.  I looked at her straight auburn
hair that I had washed so many times in the shower, her
thin, willowy arms that had embraced my body, and the full
lips that caused a stir deep inside me every time I saw
them.  When she looked up and saw me standing halfway
between her and the door, I could see the almond colored
eyes that I'd stared into until I was in a trance.  Amber's
face started to take on a look of shock, then froze midway
when she saw what I was wearing.  I think her brain was
having a panic attack while her eyes were saying, "Yum."

She said, "Blossom."  It was less of a statement and more of
a cover for "Oh shit."

"Hey baby," I said.

Amber slowly walked around the counter, and when she did I
nearly lost it.  Down below the hemline of her skirt, she
wore two-inch sandals that showed off a silver anklet and
toe ring combo that I'd given her.  It was hard not to let
anger show in my face.

She just stood there tight lipped.  I realized she didn't
know if I was going to punch her or take out a gun and start
shooting or fall to my knees and beg for her back.  I stayed
silent, letting Amber's mind play through all the little
scenarios of where this could go.  It was mean, but she was
the cause of that little sliver of my heart growing cold.

"What are.what do you want?"

I walked up to her, and as I did it was obvious she was
trying not to back away.  "You owe me."

"Owe you?"  She tried to sound annoyed, but there was a
nervous lilt to her voice that betrayed her guilt, and her
fear.

I nodded.  "Uh huh.  You remember our little fantasy?"

She smirked.  "Which one?"  Less fear in her voice now.

I held out my hands, indicating the store.  Amber's eyebrows
raised and she started to look up.  But then she realized
what I meant and looked back at me with a mischievous grin
and a wild look in her eyes.  That look.  I hadn't realized
I'd missed it until that moment.

"Are you serious?" she asked.

To answer her question I opened the coat, revealing my naked
body underneath.  Amber's eyes went wide and her jaw fell
open.  She loved it when I let the exhibitionist side of me
go wild, and I threw in a gold waist chain for good measure.
One look told me I had her right where I wanted her.

In three quick strides she covered the distance between the
two of us.  One hand came to the back of my neck and pulled
my face to hers, our lips brought together in a kiss fueled
by momentary lust.  Her other hand went to my breast,
rubbing the soft flesh and pinching between her fingers the
nipple already hard from the cool air.  Our tongues
violently mashed together and I once again relished in
Amber's taste.  A year's worth of memories flooded back into
my conscious mind and I felt like I could get lost in any
one of them.  The real reason I was here was suddenly
sacrificed to the desire to have her back.

I felt safe.  I had someone to lean on again, someone who
would catch me when I fell, be there when I needed, give
when I lacked, help when I was helpless.  You never seem to
realize what kind of support you gain when you're in a
committed, loving relationship.  Not until it's suddenly
gone without your consent.  The numb feeling that comes over
you when you suddenly realize your safety net is gone.  Back
outside without a jacket, the door closed and locked and you
don't have a key to get back in.  Nothing but miles of empty
wasteland before you and you don't know which direction to
head in.suddenly I understood what my psychiatrist was
telling me about being too dependant on others.

But I wasn't the only one feeling safe.  Amber panicked when
she first saw me, fearing the worst kind of retribution.
Now thinking my intention is fun, she's relaxed and getting
into it.  This is the false sense of security I wanted to
create for her, because in order for me to get away with
this I needed her to feel safe and secure.  We broke the
kiss and when I looked in Amber's eyes I fell in love with
her again.


"Did you know hummingbirds are the only type of birds that
can fly backwards?"


Amber had asked the question without looking away from the
magazine.  We were in this hotel in Philadelphia, my cousin
was getting married and Amber and I went down a night early.
There was a small round table and chair in front of a window
offering a picturesque view of the city, and the bedside
radio was set to a local college station that played techno
music.   After taking a shower I walked out of the bathroom
naked, using the towel to try to get some water from my ear.
Amber was lying on the bed wearing only a baby doll T-shirt.
Her bare feet were crossed and her light brown patch of
pubic hair was on display.  Both looked inviting.

"Why would any bird want to?"

Amber shrugged.  "To get out of a bad situation?"

I turned the chair so it faced the window and sat down.
"But they can't see backwards.  They could fly back into
another bad situation."

"Like getting another bird's beak up it's butt."

I smiled.  "Doesn't sound that bad to me."

Amber tossed the magazine aside, jumped off the bed and sat
in my lap.  "Me neither."  She wrapped her arms around me
and leaned down, we shared a passionate kiss followed by
some lip sucking and finally some cuddling.  She turned and
we stared out the window at the metropolis beyond.

Amber chuckled.  "How many people you think are having sex
out there right now?"

"In the whole world?"

She shook her head.  "Just where we can see."

"Ten, thirteen maybe."

"So few?"

I sighed.  "It's why the world is such a fucked up place."

Amber thought about that for a moment.  Suddenly her brow
furrowed and she looked at me.  "Hey, wait a sec.you can't
say thirteen.  I asked you how many people are having sex.
Thirteen is an odd number."

"I figure someone out there is masturbating.  Or if they're
really lucky, they're in the middle of a threesome."

We laughed, and as we did our hands began rubbing each
other's bodies.  Soon Amber's hands were caressing my
breasts and I had one hand up her shirt and another between
her legs.  My fingers traced lightly along her lower lips,
creating moisture among her folds and causing her to mew
like a kitten.

Amber was wet enough for me to slip a finger inside of her.
After a minute I was able to add another, and that caused
her hips to buck.  I never like using a dildo, mostly
because a plastic phallus never compares to the feeling of
real physical contact.  Holding her against my body, I could
feel her press back when she shuddered and my hand felt the
muscles in her stomach move when I hit a good spot.  Amber's
arm stretched up behind my head where her hand caressed my
hair and pulled a little when she reacted to my motions.
The walls of her cunt squeezed against my fingers in
response to my explorations.  It's not enough for me to
simply give pleasure; I get pleasure from feeling the
reactions to what I'm doing.

Our mouths met and quickly began to devour each other.  My
other hand started sliding up and down over her clit,
causing her hips to buck again.  Amber moaned and that's
when I started to use my fingertips on her clit, teasing her
for a few minutes by driving her to near orgasm and then
slowing down.  Amber broke the kiss and cried out.  Using my
hands to elicit pleasure, being able to cause her to react,
making her feel more or less by varying the speed, it all
made me feel powerful, and I love the feeling of power
because that means I'm in control.  Being in control means
everything, because that means no one could take advantage
of or embarrass me.  It also means I'm less likely to lose
control of my emotions as well.

I decided Amber had had enough and drove her to orgasm.  Her
body tensed and her hips moved as her butt pressed hard
against my crotch.  These actions were punctuated by Amber's
cries of ecstasy, each one boasting my feeling of power.
With a few final shakes she collapsed limp against me, her
breathing shallow and ragged.

"Good?" I asked.

"Uh," gasp, "huh."

We sat there for a few moments with the city in front of us
and the music playing in the background.  Finally Amber got
up and pulled me to my feet, leading me over to the bed
where she fell down on top of the covers and dragged me with
her.  We kissed for a while, our mouths and lips and tongues
working to build up our passion.  I got her shirt off and
licked and sucked on her nipples.  Eventually she rewarded
me by calling out my name in the heat of the moment.
Finally we flipped over and she took control.  Amber licked
me from head to toe, spending a few minutes on my toes, and
then positioned herself between my legs.

"Hand me the beads please."

There was a set of anal beads and a small tube of lube on
the bedside table.  She must have planned on getting into
some fun.  Amber lubed up the beads as I put a pillow under
my hips.  Then she spread some lube on my asshole, not so
subtly slipping a finger inside and causing me to gasp.
Amber giggled at my reaction, and then proceeded to slowly
insert the beads in one at a time.  I felt a jolt of
pleasure as each bead stretched my hole, and when the last
one was in she said, "Now for the fun part."

Amber kept her eyes firmly locked on mine as she rubbed her
hands on the inside of my legs and licked my outer lips to
get me worked up.  Finally she spread me apart and ran her
tongue up and down the sensitive skin, licking, sucking and
nibbling until I was on the brink of orgasm.  Grabbing the
string with a small metal ring at the end, Amber sucked on
my clit and sent me over the edge as she pulled the anal
beads out of me one at a time.  The sensations of her eating
me out as each bead stretched my anus were fantastic.  And
she timed it just right too, milking my orgasm for almost as
long as it took to get the last bead out.  I almost felt
empty when it was done, like the beads had become part of me
and now my body was missing them.  Amber climbed onto me and
we kissed and cuddled for a while, one of those sweet and
tender moments that come after sex.

Eventually we started kissing some more and that led to
fondling, and fondling led to licking, and that led Amber to
turn around and get us into a sixty nine.  I could feel her
tongue caress my clit as her fingers held me open and played
with my folds.  My lips sucked on hers, savoring the juice
that tasted of her very essence.  Then I brought my hands up
and over her torso, running my fingers along the crack of
her ass and teasing the outer edge of her rosebud.  Dipping
into her pussy in order to lubricate my digits, I moved them
up and slowly pressed one into her ass.  Amber elicited a
moan of pleasure and slid a finger into my pussy, followed
by another and soon a third, pumping them with building
speed while licking and sucking on my clit.  Both of us had
a rhythm going, driving each other through wave after wave
of stimulation, and sending shocks of pleasure through each
other's bodies until we finally drove each other to another
set of glorious orgasms.

I lay there, unable to move, while Amber righted herself and
lay next to me.  Her sweat felt cool against my skin as she
leaned in and kissed me, and I could taste the mix of our
juices as our tongues collided yet again.  After a few
minutes we settled into each other's arms.  There was warm
comfort in her embrace, a security I never wanted to be
without.

Suddenly, Amber said, "I love you."

I almost said, "What?" because I couldn't believe what I'd
heard.  Luckily I stopped myself, since that could have been
taken the wrong way and a long period of explaining and
soothing doubts would have ensued.  Instead I looked at her
and said what I really felt.  "I love you too."  We hugged
and kissed and cuddled and the world was a wonderful place
full of possibilities.

After Amber took a shower, and I took another one, we got
dressed and walked from our hotel to South Street.  There
were bars and all kinds of places to check out.  By the time
we ended up in the tattoo parlor we'd both had quite a few
drinks.  I brought Amber to the flash art board and showed
her the tattoo I'd always wanted to get - a naked devil
woman complete with red skin, horns and a tail, resting on
her knees and looking back with seduction in her eyes.
Amber thought it was cool, but we ended up going with her
suggestion, which was getting our names tattooed onto each
other.

At first I thought it was a bad idea, since most people
ended up regretting such decisions, but then I also
remembered thinking how my father would have called it
"ghetto" to do such a thing.  His contempt for others based
on social class always pissed me off, which is probably why
I still have a tattoo of Amber's name over a heart just
below my belly button.  She got a similar design with my
name in the same place, and then we went to a bar to
celebrate.  Every round was considered "post-surgical
anesthetic", and since we self-prescribed our needs there
were many rounds to be had before leaving.

On the way back to the hotel we passed a theater where the
show had ended and the audience was socializing outside.
They looked like an uptight bunch, mostly dressed in suits
and expensive gowns.  After we turned the corner, Amber
looked at me with the aforementioned wild look in her eyes.

"I dare you," she said, sounding out of breath with the
excitement of her idea, "to streak those people!"

I stared at her, the automatic response of protest caught
somewhere in my throat.  I would love to blame it on the
booze, but alcohol held no cause or reason in what I did.
The truth is, looking into those eyes, the eyes of the girl
I loved most in this world, and seeing her child-like
expression of excitement, I knew I couldn't say no.  To let
her down would cause an emotional hurt in the deepest core
of my being.  I could never refuse her.  If she asked me to
rob a bank or beat the shit out of a biker chick twice my
size I'd have done my best to make her happy.  To say you
don't understand this is to earn my pity, because in my
opinion you're someone who has never experienced love in
it's truest form.

I was excited to do it, yet as I began to take my clothes
off I started to feel strange.  At first I couldn't put my
finger on it, like trying to recall the name of someone you
recognized but couldn't place.  But when I saw Amber
watching me with a glint in her eye it hit me - this is the
first bit of exhibitionism I'd done since Heather got me to
strip and masturbate.  For a moment I almost stopped because
it scared me.  Here I was once again taking my clothes off
and performing an act in order to gain someone else's
approval and also for their amusement.  Was I setting myself
up again?  No, that couldn't be the case this time, since
Heather had played me from the beginning, using the promise
of a relationship to trick me into getting something for
her, while Amber is my girlfriend already, and I know the
only thing she's looking to do is satisfy her own wacky
sensibilities.  That's fine by me.

Once I finished stripping a bolt of excitement coursed
through my body.  I was naked, outside, in the middle of a
city.  Feeling the cool air on every inch of my skin sparked
something primal in me, and suddenly I wanted to be nude
outside all the time.

"Go for it!" Amber yelled, and our combined excitement sent
me sprinting around the corner.  Despite bare feet masking
my approach, some of the theatergoers spotted me before I
reached them and I heard a combination of gasps and laughs.
I bumped into a few bodies as I ran through, and even felt
one hand grab at me.  Before I knew it I was past them and
coming up on the corner.  The plan was for Amber to circle
around the block and meet me with my clothes.  That was the
plan, but not what happened.

As I rounded the building I slammed into someone, a person
way too heavy to be Amber.  It was a cop.  His partner was
standing next to him, and both of them stared at me for a
moment.

"Well this ought to be quick," the female partner said.  "We
don't have to search her."

As I felt the cuffs snap around my wrists, I looked up the
street and saw Amber's head peek around the corner.  I
wasn't sure, but for a moment I thought she was smiling.
Later, after she bailed me out of jail, Amber said she had
seen the cops before I came but didn't think there was
anything she could do.  I told her claiming that someone had
just stolen her dog and ran "that way" would have been a
good way to distract them.  The "oh yeah" that came after my
suggestion didn't help much.

The cops pulled me away and walked me back past the theater
crowd.  They clapped and hooted and whistled at my arrest.
Someone yelled, "That's what you get!"  Once again I was
publicly humiliated.


The changing rooms in Va Vem were six large cubes with heavy
curtains for doors and wide wooden benches for sitting.
There were handrails on each wall, put there after a lawsuit
that demanded handicapped assistance, and a narrow mirror
that only worked for people size two or below.  Of course
the handrails weren't the big, round aluminum ones you
usually see, a trendy store wouldn't do that.  These were
thin ornate metal ones painted black, not very good for
someone having to lean all their body weight against their
hand.  Can't let convenience get in the way of style.

"You're boss not here today?"  I asked as the memory of
Philadelphia pushed my feelings about Amber back into the
hate column.

"You forget so quickly," she said.  "I've told you she's
never in before noon.  Party girl, remember?"

I smiled.  "So it's just you and me, all alone."  My hand
fingered cold metal in my pocket again, and the feeling of
power returned.

Amber grabbed me by the coat and dragged me into one of the
rooms.  Pulling me close, she engaged a quick kiss and said,
"If a customer comes in, they can take what they want."

She yanked my coat off and tossed it onto the bench.  It
landed with a thud, the sound of something heavy striking
the wood bench, certainly not what you'd expect from a piece
of cloth.  Amber stopped and looked at it, turning back to
me with a curious look on her face.  "What the hell are you
carrying in there?"

I smiled and tried to play it off.  "Now who forgets so
quickly?  That little metal Buddha I got from my
grandfather.  Never go anywhere without it, remember?"  But
I really did leave without it, and I started to wonder if
that meant bad luck.

The curious look went away.  "Never going to change, are
you?"

"There's comfort in old habits," I said.  It almost sounded
sinister, even though I didn't intend for it to, but Amber
just smiled and pulled me in for another kiss.  She started
unbuttoning her blouse from the top down and I started
helping her from the bottom up.  Underneath she wore a lacy
peach bra that I normally would have taken a moment to
admire, but the passion of the moment took away any meaning
for it beyond something in my way and I discarded it
quickly.  I did take a moment to admire Amber's breasts, two
beautiful melon shaped globes with small brown areolas.  My
body leaned forward, almost bowing to their presence, as my
tongue traced along where the brown met white skin.  Amber
let out a breath, her hand going to the side of my head,
caressing me as my tongue caressed her.  Fingertips ran
along the outside of my ear as my tongue zeroed in on her
nipple, flicking the stiff skin until she begged me to suck
on it.  I granted her wish, and as I did Amber's hand moved
down to my own breast, caressing and squeezing, pinching and
rolling, working her magic that I have longed for these past
months.

We traded positions, allowing Amber's mouth to feast on my
breast while I caressed her tit. Giving each other mutual
pleasure was what we always did best.  It was something I'd
learned from another ex, who told me that the best sex is
always shared.  Amber easily picked up the philosophy,
probably because sharing herself was never a problem.

She finished both my tits and came back to my face for more
kissing.  While we did that Amber took off her skirt and
tossed it.  Underneath she wore a pair of V-string panties,
and I slid my hands around to her naked butt and started
caressing it.  She moaned in my mouth and I swear I felt the
heat from her passion flowing into me.

Finally I pushed Amber away and pulled her into a sitting
position on the bench.  Keeping close to my jacket was
important.  I got to my knees, pulled off her panties, and
received a surprise from my ex-girlfriend.  There was a
different tattoo where my name had once been; it was now a
large green unicorn.  Amber must have realized why I
stopped.  "I guess you didn't get yours covered over."

"No," I said, "It's still there."

Anger started welling up in the pit of my stomach, but I
stopped it from getting out of control.  Things were going
so well with my plan, I didn't want to screw it up now.  I
avoided saying anything else, just spread her legs gently
and returned to her.  My nostrils picked up on her musky
scent like a favorite memory from childhood while my tongue
found moisture in her folds and soaked in it.  I licked the
delicate skin and savored in the ability to make her purr.

Centering on her clit, my tongue flicked and caressed and
made Amber respond in grunts and gasps.  I dragged a finger
through her lips, giving her other sensations to enjoy while
I did this.  Finally I brought my finger to Amber's entrance
and slowly slid it inside of her.  A long moan came from her
mouth.  I let the finger sit for a moment, occasionally
wiggling it to tease her about what was coming next.  When I
was sure she was ready for it I started pumping, slowly
gliding in and out of her until I built up a steady pace.

Amber's hands were on my head, her fingers weaving through
my hair as they caressed my scalp.  I felt like they were
urging me on, almost like a cheering section, pushing me
towards giving her a climax.  I upped my speed and made it
happen, her body going rigid as she gripped my hair and
cried out loud, then slowly releasing her grip on me as she
went limp and leaned back.  Her breathing was heavy but
slowing as she said, "That was great."

But I wasn't done yet.  I pulled my finger out as my tongue
licked all over her pussy, bathing in her juice and keeping
myself worked up.  When I heard her start to moan again I
knew she was ready, and before she could say anything I slid
my tongue inside her.  Amber let out a sharp cry, indicating
I'd succeeded in surprising her.  The warm embrace of her
pussy on my tongue was heaven, and I would have loved to
keep it there, but I needed to keep Amber happy too and so I
started working it in and out, fucking her.

"Oh my, this is, is.oh," was the most she could say during
this time.  I kept it up for a while, at least until my
mouth started getting sore from staying open for so long.
Finally I pulled out my tongue and replaced it with two
fingers, giving my mouth a break.  As I did this, I
positioned my other hand under her pussy, sliding the
fingers along her butt crack.  Amber said, "Yes," indicating
that she knew where I was going.  I teased her rosebud with
my index finger, getting it ready for an invasion.  Amber
cried out and I knew she was about to cum, so just as she
did I pressed my finger into her ass.  That caused her to
buck wildly and my hands had to move with her.

I could see the sweat glisten on her forehead, and Amber
seemed so much more passionate and wild than when we'd had
sex before.  At first I thought maybe she'd learned
something new since we parted ways, or maybe the girl I hear
she's shacking up with is someone who can really bring out
the beast in her.  But then I realized this is just the two
of us having sex, like it was before.  Deep down I'd always
blamed myself for not keeping her happy, but maybe it's not
who Amber's with that does it for her.  Maybe it's what she
shouldn't be doing that turns her on.


"My, my, aren't you a hottie."


Those were the first words Amber said upon being introduced
to me.  Normally I wouldn't have a problem with that kind of
reaction, but since she was sitting next to her girlfriend
at the time it made things slightly uncomfortable.

We were at a party, given by my friend Kaye at the apartment
she shared with her girlfriend Maggie.  To know the two of
them you would never think that they could work as a couple.
Kaye has always reminded me of Katherine Hepburn, carrying a
social elegance and grace matched with a fiercely
independent attitude and a mouth that will tell you where
you can stick it.  She has curly, shoulder length brown hair
and looks as good in jeans and a T-shirt as she does in a
dress, one of those people that clothes always seem to hang
off of just right.  Maggie is just the opposite.  With her
jet-black hair, piercings, tattoos and seemingly endless
wardrobe of punk rock shirts, black jeans and combat boots,
she has hard case written all over her.  But most of the
time she's pretty quiet and subdued, and the few times we've
had the chance to talk I got the impression she has a good
head on her shoulders.  I also found out there's more to her
than meets the eye.  Despite her appearance I was surprised
to learn she's a chemical engineer and also earns some extra
money playing violin in a four string quartet.   What's
really important about her is that in the eight months that
they've been together, I've never seen Kaye so happy.

When I arrived at the apartment I noticed three women I'd
never seen before.  The first was an absolute knockout with
long blonde hair and the most luscious lips I'd ever seen.
Maggie introduced her as Michelle, a friend from college
that was staying with them for a while.  Kaye had told me
over the phone that she'd had her first threesome the other
night with Maggie and Michelle.  I was very jealous, but
apparently I wasn't the only one because the whole night
Kaye was giving Michelle a very cold attitude.  Suddenly I
realized that she could be worried about losing Maggie to
such a beauty.

The other two new faces were sitting on the couch.  Mandy
was a soft butch in her early thirties with dark hair cut
pageboy style and a pair of eyes that were made for the
description "shifty".  The other woman I've already
described, because her name was Amber.  I assumed they were
a couple because Mandy had one arm around Amber's shoulder
and a hand on her leg.  Amber didn't seem to mind.  I
noticed how Mandy seemed to keep physical contact with Amber
no matter how she moved.  When Amber leaned forward to hear
my friend Samantha talk, Mandy moved the arm behind her to
keep a hand on Amber's back.  When Amber sat back, Mandy put
her arm around Amber like she was claiming territory.

A little while later I ran into Kaye in the kitchen.  "Where
do you know Mandy and Amber from?"

"You know those college Alumni meetings I go to?"

I smiled.  "Kaye, those aren't Alumni meetings, they're
excuses to go to a bar."

Kaye shrugged.  "I met Amber at one.  She graduated two
years ago, moved here and wanted to meet new people."

"You notice anything funny about Mandy?"

"Other than the fact that she can't keep her hands to
herself?"  Kaye scrunched up her shoulders and made a face.
"Ugh, creepy.  I can't stand clingy women."

"This coming from a someone who talks about her girlfriend
like she's better than chocolate."

"Maggie is certainly not better than chocolate."  Kaye said.
Then she was quiet, and I waited for it.  Her face betrayed
the effort of trying to prevent her mouth from saying
anything else.  It didn't last long.  "She's as good as
chocolate, because nothing is better than chocolate."

I laughed, but noticed Kaye looked like she was holding back
tears.  I put an arm around her.  "Is it Michelle?"

"Mostly," she said.

"Do you want to talk?"

Kaye shook her head.  "No."

"Do you want to help me drop a couch on Michelle?"

Kaye laughed.  "No."

"Want to get blind drunk and moon people?"

Kaye hesitated.  "Probably, but later."

I gave Kaye a hug and then helped her burn hors d'oeuvres.
As I brought them around to people I ran into Maggie and
mentioned what Kaye had said about her and chocolate, hoping
that might help if she was having any thoughts of straying.
Even though I didn't know Maggie that well, I didn't want to
think she was capable of it

Soon the party was going full swing.  There was plenty of
drinking, a little drug abuse, and a bathroom that served as
a revolving door for encounters.  Some of those encounters
were between people who had never met before, others were
between people in a relationship, and a few were a dangerous
mix of the two.  It made waiting to pee a little exciting.

I was doing just that when the door opened and a lone guy
came out.  No excitement there.  I went in and had the door
almost shut when a hand stopped it.  Before I had a chance
to say anything Amber slipped in.  She turned to me with a
pack of cigarettes in her hand.

"You mind?" she said with a twinge of hurt puppy in her
voice.  "I'm really jonesing and Mandy will go nuts if she
sees me having one."

I smiled.  "No problem."  Amber smiling back at me was like
finding out everything was right with the world.  I pointed
at the toilet.  "You don't mind, do you?"

"Nothing I don't do everyday."

I pulled down my panties and did my business.  At one point
I looked up and noticed Amber staring at me like she was
contemplating something.  Then again maybe she was just
staring into space and mentally making her grocery list.
When she gave a slight smile I knew it was the former.
Amber blew smoke out of her nostrils and I suddenly felt
very self-conscious.  She smiled and said, "Tell me
something interesting about yourself."

I thought about it and then shrugged.  "I collect hunting
knives."

"You don't look like the hunting type."

"That's because I don't."

A wry smile crossed her face, like she was enjoying this.
"Then why do you collect them?"

"It's the feeling they give me."

When I got up and flushed Amber walked over to me.  "I'm
sorry," she said while holding up her pack of cigarettes, "I
didn't offer you one."

"Thanks."  I pulled one from the pack and stuck it in my
mouth, but before I could get out my lighter Amber struck a
match and held it up.  Our eyes locked as I put my face
forward, the match setting fire to the cigarette between us.
When I pulled back Amber kept the match held up, letting it
burn down until it was just on top of her fingertips.  With
a second to spare she blew it out.

I let out some smoke and our eyes found each other again
through the haze.  Suddenly Amber took a step towards me,
closing the space between us to a few inches.  The power of
her intention was almost palatable.  Maybe it was the booze,
or the fact that I couldn't stand Mandy's clingy nature, or
the fact that I'd been catching glances from Amber all
night, but I didn't stop her.

We stood there staring at each other.  Soon tension became
anticipation.  Finally I couldn't take it anymore and said,
"So."

Suddenly Amber shoved her face into mine and we were kissing
passionately.  I'd been single for a while, quite a while
actually, and had almost forgotten how good kissing feels.
It all came back - the softness, the wetness, and the odor
of saliva on skin.  My hands moved up her stomach and
settled on her breasts, and I could feel her nipples through
the fabric of her blouse.  Just as I gave a gentle squeeze
someone pounded on the bathroom door.  Amber jumped back.
We could hear laughter and the voices of people we didn't
know, but the moment was lost.  Amber smiled and I opened
the door and we walked out.

The next morning I felt like shit, and that had nothing to
do with a hangover.  It wasn't that I didn't like the kiss;
in fact, I loved the kiss.  Thinking about it made me warm
and fuzzy and excited in all the right places.  What made me
feel like shit about it was the fact that I let it happen.
No, I wanted it to happen.  Amber was a taken girl, very
taken by Marcy's standards, and I had never thought of
myself as the kind of girl that kisses another girl's girl,
especially when the girl's other girl is in the same
building.  I think I just confused myself.

I wasn't sure why I did what I did.  Part of it I blamed on
the long stretch since my last sexual encounter, and the
even longer one since my last girlfriend.  I also blamed it
on Amber's allure, something about her was just
intoxicating.  A combination of her look and the way she
carried herself that made the air around her seem like it
could combust at any moment.  I wanted to put some of it on
Marcy for being so annoying, but I knew that shouldn't
matter.  I also wanted to give Amber some credit for
initiating the kiss, but I knew that shouldn't matter
either.  In my book other people are going to do what
they're going to do because that's their choice.  What I do
is my choice, because I only have control over me.  I didn't
break the kiss or push Amber away, telling her I was
flattered but what we were doing wasn't right.  Deep down I
knew I didn't want to do any of that.  Even worse, right now
I wanted to kiss her again.

What I needed was someone to talk to, a friend from whom I
could get advice and support.  Unfortunately I couldn't call
any of them.  Sure, there are a few who could have related
to my situation because they would have done the same thing,
but sans the guilt, which is exactly what I didn't want to
hear.  And as much as I wanted Kaye's thoughtful,
intelligent advice, I knew that right now wasn't the time.
There was this sinking feeling in my gut that she was going
through something similar, except she was on the Mandy side
of the equation.  Any advice would be tainted with her
personal problem, not to mention the fact that I'd get read
the riot act for being a Michelle.

So I decided to handle it myself, and myself decided to let
it go.  I would lift all the guilt of my actions, and
inactions, off of my shoulders.  I allowed two last minutes
to feel bad about the situation, and then just forgave
myself and moved on.  But the get-out-of-jail-free card came
with a price, and that price was letting go of my desires to
be with Amber again.  I couldn't think about her, try to
contact her, or masturbate about her.  If we ran into each
other again I would be polite, sociable, and completely
immune to her charms.  No more lip locking, saliva swapping
or melon picking.  I was Amber-free and Amber-proof.

This all worked wonderfully.  Right up to the next moment I
saw her.

That moment was a few days later at The Litter Box.  Amber
showed up solo, and she squeezed between my friend Margaret
and I even though there was a free seat across the table.
We started talking, and everyone and everything else just
melted away.   Not far into conversation she dropped the
fact that she and Mandy were having relationship trouble.  A
few minutes later she laughed and clapped at something I
said, and as she put her hands down one of them rested on my
leg.  At that moment someone could have started shooting in
the club and I wouldn't have noticed or cared.  I was too
busy starting up the internal war between what I wanted and
who I wanted to be.  This was an opportunity to be one or
the other, but I didn't know which way to go.

My eyes happened to be looking at the door when I noticed
Kaye walking in.  I started to wave, but when I saw the look
on her face I excused myself from Amber.  Kaye didn't walk
towards the table; instead she went straight to the bar and
ordered three shots of vodka.

"You okay?" I asked as I walked up.

She downed the first shot.  "No."

"Want to talk about it?"

She downed the second shot.  "No."

"Planning on killing Michelle?"

Kaye had been lifting the third shot to her lips as I asked.
She hesitated for a moment, the rim of the shot glass just
barely an inch from her mouth, the heat from her breath
fogging up the side of the glass.

"No," she said, and then downed the shot.

"Good," I said.  "From now on I'm just going to hand you a
questionnaire.  It'll save me some time."

Kaye turned and leaned against the bar.  "Tell me something.
Do you think that there's a person out there, someone you'd
be willing to.to throw everything away for?  Someone you'd
be willing to risk everything that's important to you?"

I could tell the alcohol was having an effect on her.  But
Kaye's questions also made me think. Looking over at the
table, my eyes focused on Amber.  I stared at her for a few
moments before I answered.

"Yes," I said.  No question about it now I realized, no
doubts or second thoughts or guilt.  And fuck Mandy and
whatever sob story comes later.  I was going for it.

When I turned back to Kaye she was already gone, just
disappeared without me noticing, and little did I know that
it was the last I would see of her for a long time.  A few
days later I found out she just up and moved away to another
city, and when I spoke to her on the phone she said
something about wanting to find more challenging work.  Kaye
teaches sixth graders, how much more challenging could that
be?

At the time I didn't know where she had gone, and I was
worried about how she was behaving, so I started back
towards the table to see if she was there and suddenly
realized I had problems of my own.   Amber was talking to
Julie, an ex of mine who has a big mouth, a small heart, and
inhibitions that are nowhere to be found.  Before I knew
what she was like, I made the mistake of telling Julie about
my Slasher Movie history in high school.  Amber was getting
an earful about me, and more than likely she wouldn't be
interested by the time Julie was done talking.  There went
everything.

I stood there frozen, the rage building up inside of me.  I
was angry with Julie, but even angrier with yours truly for
not jumping in when the opportunity presented itself.  Now
it was lost forever.

"Blossom, you okay?" Margaret asked when she noticed me
standing there.  Suddenly everyone from the table, including
Julie and Amber, were staring at me.  I ran.


Amber had me bent over and legs spread, her fingers
pistoning in and out of my pussy while her tongue rimmed my
asshole.  The bench I was kneeling on was made of long
pieces of wood with spaces in-between, which made it very
uncomfortable.  But I could see the two of us in the mirror
on the opposite wall, and it turned me on so much to see us
having sex that the uncomfortable pain was bearable.

Pulling her fingers out of my pussy, Amber moved them to my
clit and started playing with it as her tongue pressed into
my anus.  I pinched my nipples as the velvet of her tongue
moved inside of me, going in and out and around my sensitive
rosebud, and when she increased the speed of her fingers on
my clit it all drove me to one of the best orgasms I could
ever remember.

After a few moments of repositioning, we lay together on the
bench, breathing heavily as we were coming down, Amber
leaning against me, my jacket just inches away from our
heads.  I started to reach towards it when Amber asked, "So,
how are your folks?"

The simple pleasantry of the question after such an intimate
act caused me to burst out laughing.  Amber laughed too, and
I realized she'd done it to lighten the situation, trying to
keep us from talking about more unpleasant things.  "They're
good.  Driving each other crazy as usual."

"Yeah, but they're happy around each other.  Always wanted
to know how they did that."

Her words struck a memory in me.  "You know, you never
talked about your parents.  Every time I tried to bring them
up you'd change the subject or get pissed off at me.  Why
was that?"

Amber sighed.  I looked over and noticed that her eyes were
closed and a hand was at her forehead.  "Do we need to talk
about this now?"

I shrugged.  "As good a time as any."

She opened her eyes and looked at me.  "I had a teacher once
tell me that fathers are important.  Always thought that was
funny he never thought mothers were important too.  All I
had was my dad.  Mom ran out somewhere early on, I never got
the whole story on that one."

"Your dad never re-married?"

"I'm not sure he was married to my mom in the first place.
Probably her luck, he wasn't really the marriage type."  She
snorted.  "Not the relationship type either.  He had a
problem breaking up with women."

"He didn't want to hurt them."

Amber chuckled and rolled her eyes.  "Yeah.  So he devised
this system, I guess.  He'd start seeing the next one before
he broke up with the last one."  She looked at me.  "That
usually sent the message.  Guy was a bastard."

I stared at Amber, completely at a loss for words.
Apparently no one ever taught her irony.


"I thought you had a gyno appointment!"


Amber blurted out the statement as she pulled the covers
over her naked body.  It wasn't a completely ironic action.
Even though I'd seen her without clothes plenty in the past
year and a half of our relationship, for the first time I
was seeing her really naked.

The blonde Amber was laying on top of before I walked into
the room leaned up on her elbows.  "Well ain't this a
bitch," she said.  Amber must have met her at the gym.  The
muscles in her arms and torso spoke of hours of
weightlifting and if the deep voice wasn't natural it was
definitely a result of steroid use.

"It got cancelled," I said, then turned and stormed out.
Amber didn't even try to chase me.  When I came back to the
apartment later she had taken all her stuff.  Not even a
note to try and explain.

I spent the next four months in a rut.  Go to work, come
home, watch TV, read, go to sleep.  Wake up and repeat.
There were two one-night stands somewhere in there, but
neither one felt worthy of pursuing.  They say time heals
all wounds, but mine just seemed to keep getting worse.  I
was in love with Amber, and that love deepened the more time
we spent together and the more memories we created.  Those
feelings weren't going away overnight, and added with the
sting of betrayal, it was tearing my insides apart.  The
more time went on the worse I felt.

This all led up to last night when I went out with my friend
Mitch, who told me a night out would make things better.  He
brought me to a place called Snips to see a few bands play.
It was the kind of dive every local band plays - two small
rooms, one with a bar and the other with a small stage that
barely fit the drum kit, basically a place for people to
take up space for a cover charge.  Mitch spent most of his
nights there while his days were filled with one part time
job at a supermarket and another part time job running
numbers for a local bookie.  While Mitch is no brain
surgeon, he's exactly the type of person you want to be with
when you're just looking for mindless entertainment.

The band on the stage was called Carcass Crowd Surfers, and
they were the worst band I'd ever heard in my life.  They
played heavy metal, which I'm not a fan of in the first
place, but these guys somehow managed to make it worse.
Their sound was somewhere between shredding an iron with a
hand grater and stepping on the tail of a goat.  I stepped
up the pace of my drinking just to outrun the headache that
was building from my ears inward.

At one point Mitch asked me, "So how's the post-Amber
recovery going?"

"I woke up today and thought about killing myself before
breakfast."

Mitch stared at me.  "So why didn't you?"

"My cat."

He smiled.  "Didn't want her to lose her mommy?"

"I didn't want her to take a shit on my face afterwards.
Not the way I want to be remembered."

"Huh, at least it's a way to be remembered."  Mitch leaned
over to me.  "You know what," he said breathing whisky fumes
towards my face.  "I'm going to open a place like this, but
I'm going to call it The Shit Hole.  Might as well call
something what it is."

When I got home I realized I'd had a horrible time and
decided to finish the night on some kind of up note.
Looking for something to help pleasure myself, I went to the
drawer where I keep all my sex toys.  There were vibrators,
clit stimulators, a pair of handcuffs, a set of vaginal
beads, a set of anal beads, a tube of lube, nude pictures of
ex-girlfriends, and, sitting at the bottom of all this, a
hunting knife.

I shut the drawer quickly and sat on the bed.  How the hell
had the knife gotten in there?  Did I put it there?  I must
have, because it wasn't there last week.  At least I don't
think it was there last week.  I tried to remember the last
time I had my knives out.  Two days ago, I was sharpening
them.  Later that night I went through a fit of anger about
Amber, realized I'd been off my pills the whole day.  Anger
flooded back into my brain as all the thoughts I'd had
during the fit came back, all the pain and embarrassment and
heartache.  Then I remembered the letter I'd received the
other day, and suddenly I knew leaving the knife in there
was no accident.  It was meant to remind me of something.

I got up and walked over to the drawer, opened it, and said,
"You're just what I need."


Lying on the bench, I held Amber close to me.  My eyes
settled on her neck and I could see it move with her
heartbeat.  I could feel my own heart beating heavily in my
chest and imagined they were beating in sync.  I used to
think we were one like that.  We were a permanent, constant
part of nature and nothing could break us up.  We simply
existed together, unable to exist apart.

Without looking at me, Amber sighed and said, "I miss this."

It was like a switch was flipped.  Suddenly every scrap of
anger inside of me coalesced and brought back the monster.
She missed this?  Missed it!  She's the one who fucked it
up!  And the way she said it.like we had some amicable
parting of the ways!  Hell, even if we argued our way into a
breakup.  She fucked someone else!

I needed to hurt her.  She had to feel my pain, the searing,
hateful pain that had torn my heart into pieces and left me
feeling like a hollow version of what I once was.  Suddenly
I remembered how dangerous the world felt again once she'd
left, how alone I felt.  When you're with someone you've
grown as a person, and when they break up with you suddenly
all that growth is whisked away.  It's like getting a third
arm and then having it cut off.  Okay, these examples are
getting a little disgusting, back to the revenge.

I reached toward my jacket and slipped my hand in the
pocket.  There was the feel of metal again.

"What are you doing?" Amber asked.

I stopped and looked at her.  "Grabbing a smoke."

"I thought you quit?"

"One of the casualties of your betrayal."

A look of regret crossed her face, and for a moment I
thought she might apologize.  But then she looked away and
muttered, "Don't blame me `cause you have no control."
Amber stretched her body, with her arms over her head,
making herself completely vulnerable.  I realized this was
my moment to strike.


"I left my favorite clit stimulator at your place."


Amber's voice came over my answering machine sounding like
she was ordering a pizza.  Of course this was four months
after I found her cheating on me, so she had probably gotten
over the embarrassment.  But for me it wouldn't stop playing
over and over in my head.  Not to mention the fact that my
heart was shattered.  Just hearing her voice sent me into a
fit.

I took my mail into the bedroom and started to go through
it, crying uncontrollably and looking for something to
distract me from my despair.  There were bills, junk mail,
an offer to fly to Hawaii if I was willing to hear a pitch
about a time-share, and one small envelope addressed by hand
and written in green ink.  The name on the return address
was H. Pollard.  At first the name didn't mean anything.
Then it came to me - the girl I'd stabbed in high school.

Inside was a four-page letter.  Heather started out
explaining that she spent many years angry with me for what
I did, and even considered suing me at one point.  I almost
stopped there, but curiosity grabbed hold of my senses and
pushed me to keep reading.  Heather went on to describe how
she dropped out of college after getting pregnant.  Even
though it's been hard raising a child single-handedly, she
said she never regrets the decision.  Her son Chris recently
started sixth grade and developed a crush on a girl.  He
wrote a love letter and sneaked it into her bag, but when
she found it the girl made fun of him in front of her
friends.  By the next day almost everyone at school had seen
or heard about the letter and Chris was picked on
mercilessly.  The poor kid went home crying, devastated to
the point where he doesn't even want to go back to school.

While Heather always realized she wasn't innocent in our
situation, she thought I had overreacted when I stabbed her.
All that changed when she felt such a blinding anger towards
the girl who caused Chris so much pain that she considered
calling the girl's mother.  That's when she remembered the
phone call my mother placed to her mother after the video
became public.  As Heather comforted her son, she felt an
overwhelming sense of guilt because once she had been that
girl.  And she realized what she'd done to me was ten times
worse than showing people a love letter.

Now she completely understands how angry I was when I
stabbed her, and even though it was fourteen years too late
she wanted to express how sorry she was for what she did.
While there is nothing she can do to change what happened,
she hoped I would accept her apology.  She ended the letter
asking if I would write her back to tell her how I felt and
how my life was going.

What goes around comes around.  Just like my mother had
said.


"Wait!  Don't go!  You can't leave me like this!"


Amber yelled those words as I pushed back the curtain at
VaVem and put my jacket on.  She pulled against the handcuff
that was secured around her wrist, and then tried to pull at
the other one secured to the handrail.  Neither one would
budge.  And while the handrail wasn't the best choice for
what it was made for, it was made very well, so that someone
much stronger than Amber couldn't just pull it out of the
wall.  I grabbed her clothes and started walking away.

"Blossom please!  I'll get fired!"

When I got to the checkout area I tossed Amber's stuff on
the floor.  Then I took the key to the handcuffs and put it
on the counter, turned and started for the door.  I thought
of Amber's boss coming in, finding her in there, unlocking
the handcuffs and firing her.

"You fucking bitch!  I never really loved you!"

That stopped me cold, and suddenly another thought ran
through my head.  Amber's boss calling the police to get her
out of the cuffs.  They don't have the tools, so they have
to call the fire department.  One thing I've learned is that
if you're going to embarrass someone, make sure there's
enough of an audience.  I went back to the counter and
grabbed the key.

There was a bar down the street with a window view of Va
Vem.  I went in and ordered a double Long Island Iced Tea,
took up a window seat and passed the time by trying to
decide if I should write Heather back.  Yes, she did
something horrible to me, but she also learned about being
on the other side of it too.  I thought about how it just
takes a little time for things to work out.

And sometimes it doesn't take long at all, like when I
caught sight of Amber's boss walking into Va Vem.  It only
took fifteen minutes for the police to get there, and just
another ten for the fire truck to arrive.  They probably ran
over people after hearing the call was to cut a naked woman
out of some handcuffs.  I decided to make my getaway after
that, since Amber might come up with some halfway believable
story to explain what happened.  Probably not, remembering
how badly she failed to come up with an excuse for the cops
in Philly.  Maybe she'd get fired and maybe not, but that
didn't matter because what I'd wanted to do was finished.
And at that moment I decided to write Heather back and offer
her my forgiveness, because you can't hold on to hate
forever.

I walked out of the bar headed for a new destination, a
tattoo shop where I planned to have Amber's name covered
over with that devil woman I wanted.   Time to start fresh.


THE END

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